WITNESS
by Fuzzbug
Summary: As an International Rescue operative, Alan Tracy has seen destruction, hopelessness and death. But while on a routine trip to the mainland, he witnesses a death that changes his life forever....And not for the better.
1. Chapter 1

WITNESS

_Note: Every so often a story comes that you just have to write down. This is mine. I have no idea where it came from, I think it was a spur of the moment thing._

_Don't worry, I haven't given up on Stranded. I just wanted to write something new as well_

_Disclaimer: All characters belong to the great Gerry Anderson._

_This first chapter is pretty short._

Chapter one

It was early afternoon and the city center was considerably more quiet than it usually was. This wasn't surprising really since most people were at work, and the children were at school.

Alan Tracy walked down Main street dressed in a dark suit, scowling to himself. He hated this part of working for his father: The paper work, the meetings at Tracy Industries and worst of all,-the never ending documents to sign.

No way. Alan preferred the physical side, the International Rescue side; helping people when they were in immense peril, piloting Thunderbird Three, his baby, to help people lost or endangered in the darkness of space.

"Why am I here?" Alan thought to himself, "I should be back home, soaking up the sun. Instead I'm stuck in a boring city, dressed like a snob."

Once again Alan scowled, he knew the exact reason he was here. It was his brothers' faults, not his.

"Alan hasn't been to the office for ages," Gordon had said.

"We don't want him getting lazy, do we?" Virgil had added.

"He needs the exercise," Scott had placed his point too.

Of course their father had agreed with them wholeheartedly, and no amount of arguing and pleading had changed his mind.

So now here he was just out of a two-hour-long meeting, he was tired and his stomach hadn't stopped rumbling.

Alan decided to find a café and get something to eat. A nice hotdog with fried onions, yum.

He started walking down the street. To the right of him past the metre high iron fence, was the park. It was empty save for a few small children, too young to be attending school.

Suddenly a couple of metres in front of Alan, a young boy about four-years-old ran out of the park entrance. He was chasing a red soccer ball. He was wearing faded blue jeans, a red and white striped shirt, and on his head was a light green baseball cap.

The soccer ball rolled off the curb and into the center of the street, and the little boy followed it. He was giggling and laughing as he went.

Alan never forgot what happened next.

From around the corner came a silver Cadillac. It was going fast,-faster than the limit at any rate. The tyres screeched on the hard cement and Alan could see that the driver was talking on his cell phone.

The boy's back was turned away, oblivious to the oncoming vehicle.

"Isn't the car going to slow down? Can't the boy hear it coming?" These questions flashed through Alan's mind, yet he couldn't move. It was as if some strange force had frozen him on the spot, in shock.

The car came closer to the boy. Alan could see that the driver was a middle aged man, wearing a dark suit similar to his own. He was still talking on his cell, and from what Alan could make out, it wasn't the politest of conversations. The driver was shouting, his mouth turned into an angry sneer. He too seemed oblivious to what was happening.

Alan started to run into the street, his paralysis finally broken. "Hey kid, watch out!" He cried, and at the same time the driver looked up. His face contorted into a look of horror when he saw the boy. He dropped the cell phone and slammed on the brakes.

The little boy looked up, and the first thing he saw was Alan running toward him……..Then he saw the car.

Alan shouted out again. But it was too late. He could only watch in horror as the terrible scene unfolded.

The car skidding.

The boy screaming.

The sound of a horn.

A horrible _thud_.

Then silence.

Alan felt something warm splatter onto his face…..Blood. He raised his hands, rubbed his face and then looked down at them, groaning in disgust at the red liquid that stained them.

Letting out a cry of horror, Alan ran into the road. He dropped down beside the boy who was lying sprawled on his back, legs splayed at an odd angle. There was a small pool of blood around his head.

"Oh my God! Is he ok?" Alan looked around to see the driver of the Cadillac, trembling all over as he looked down at them.

Alan fought the urge to knock the guy out. Instead he placed his middle and index fingers on the boy's neck, checking for a pulse.

He didn't find one.

Looking up at the smartly dressed man, Alan tried to stay calm. "He's dead."

For a few moments the man just stared at him. Then he began backing slowly away, shaking his head, as if in denial. "No" he muttered, "no."

Before Alan could stop him, the man turned and raced back to his car. He threw open the door, jumped inside, started the engine and raced away.

Alan watched as the car raced into the distance, and his eyes narrowed in anger. "You selfish bastard!" He cursed, "how could you? I'm going to…."

"Oh my God! Sammy!" Alan turned to see a hysterical woman racing towards him, her long dark hair flowing out behind her.

Alan stood to face her. "I'm so sorry," he began. "The car…."

But the woman shoved him aside, collapsing to her knees. She picked her son up, cradling him in her arms, rocking him back and forth. "Do something!" She sobbed, rubbing her son's head. "Call an ambulance!"

Alan knew that it wouldn't do any good. He couldn't tell her though, could he? So instead he removed his cell phone from his jacket pocket, flipped it open and dialled 911.

"Emergency services, how may I help you ?" A voice on the end answered.

"I need an ambulance, and the police, a boy's been knocked down……..Outside Main street park…….Yes that's right……Head and spinal injuries…..Ok thanks, please hurry!"

Alan replaced his cell, "they'll be here soon."

The woman nodded, looking up at him, tears staining her emerald eyes. "Wh-Wh-Why did you ask for the police as well?"

"I'm really sorry." Alan sighed, "it was a hit and run."

The woman began to sob harder, and Alan wrapped a friendly arm around her.

"Wh-Wh-Why would someone d-d-do this?" The woman sobbed, still rocking the boy-Sammy.

"I don't know," Alan answered truthfully, "I just don't know."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two

Sitting in the hospital waiting room Alan glanced across at Sammy's mother, still sobbing. She had introduced herself as Cassie Morgan. Cassie had asked Alan to accompany her to the hospital because she didn't want to be alone; her husband had left her, and she had no relatives to call.

The body of four-year-old Sammy Morgan was in the morgue. Cassie was waiting to see him. Alan sensed that Cassie knew it would be the last time she ever saw her son, and that made him angry.

Angry at Sammy, not looking where he was going.

Angry with the driver for not stopping, then running away like a coward.

He was even angry with Cassie for not keeping an eye on her son.

But most of all, he was angry with himself. Angry at not being able to save him. He was _so close_ to Sammy, yet he still couldn't save him. But he was close enough so that Sammy's blood had splattered onto him.

A doctor approached them. "Mrs Morgan, you can see your son now."

Alan and Cassie stood up.

"Sorry sir," the doctor said to Alan. "I'm afraid it's family only."

"But I want him to come," Cassie protested. "He tried to help Sammy."

"No I didn't," Alan thought to himself. Then out loud he said: "It's ok Cassie, I have to make a call anyway, you'll be fine, the doctor will be with you." He indicated the doctor who had come collect them, who nodded.

Cassie didn't seem convinced. " Promise you won't leave."

"I promise." Alan watched as the young woman was lead to the room containing her dead son, then he went outside and activated his wrist com. "Alan Tracy to base, do you read me?"

His call was answered by his eldest brother. "Base here. What's up Alan? Is the meeting still on?"

"No Scott, the meeting finished ages ago," Alan replied. He glanced at his right hand, still streaked with drying blood.

"Then where are you?" Scott asked.

"Where's Dad?" Alan ignored Scott's question.

"Dad's taken Grandmother shopping in Boston," Scott said impatiently. "And the others are on a rescue in the Andes, now where are you?"

"I'm….." Alan hesitated, knowing what he was about to say would be followed by a tirade of questions from Scott. "I'm at the hospital."

"The hospital! Why? How? Are you ok? You're not hurt, are you?" As he had anticipated, Alan's statement had been followed by Scott's version of 'Twenty questions.'

"Whoa Scott, calm down!" Alan tried to reassure his brother, "I'm fine. It's not me, I just accompanied someone that's all."

"Who? Alan, what's going on?" 'Twenty questions' wasn't over.

"Look, I'll talk to you later," Alan replied. "Tell Dad where I am if he gets back before me."

"Alan, what….?

Alan cut him off.

The youngest Tracy leant against the hospital wall, waiting to see if Scott would call back and have a go at him for being cut off. But he didn't.

Sighing, Alan went back into the hospital. He found Cassie standing outside the morgue.

"Are you ok?" Alan asked as he approached her.

Cassie looked up, nodding. She had finally stopped crying but her eyes were still red and puffy. "He looked so peaceful in there," she indicated the morgue. "I kept thinking he was asleep, and that he would suddenly wake up and ask why I was crying."

Alan couldn't think of anything to say, so he nodded instead. "I'm afraid I have to go, I have to get back to….work."

Again, Cassie nodded. "You go, sorry I made you come."

"It's ok," Alan reassured her. "Here…," he fished a piece of paper out of his pocket. "It's my E-mail address, if you ever need to 'talk', you can."

She took it from him, smiling faintly. "Thankyou, thankyou for coming with me."

Alan gave her a brief friendly hug, then bid his farewell.

Outside, Alan began to walk back towards where the jet was stored. Along the way he passed Main street park. He froze when he came upon the scene of the accident.

There was a small pool of drying blood, and the Cadillac's tracks burnt the cement.

Alan bent down and gently ran his fingers along the blood, then he stared at the tyre tracks.

Visions of the accident began to swim in Alan's head: The car, the screams, Cassie crying, the blood splattering onto him. As a member of International Rescue he had seen many deaths, but _never_ had he seen one so callous. To make matters worse, the driver had then ran away. Poor Cassie didn't even have the reassurance that whoever did this to Sammy was now locked up.

Looking at the tracks, Alan hoped that the statement he had given the police earlier would help catch this guy. Maybe then Alan wouldn't feel so guilty at not saving Sammy, like he had saved many others in his role as an International Rescue Operative.

His eyes narrowed, and he made a silent promise to himself: "If the police don't find you, _I_ will."

He got up and began walking again.

_Note: Well that was chapter 2, sorry it's short as well, but I like cliff hangars._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter three

When Alan arrived back on Tracy island he discovered three things: His father and grandmother were still in Boston, the rescue in the Andes was still going on, and Scott was really mad at him.

"Don't you _ever_ cut me off again!" Scott shouted as soon as Alan arrived in the lounge. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Are you deaf?" Alan responded angrily, "I told you I was at the hospital!"

"Why?"

"Is this your favourite game or something?"

"What?"

"Twenty questions."

"Don't smart mouth me, Alan! Why were you at the hospital?"

"If you have to know, I accompanied someone that's all."

"Who?"

"Jeez! Is this a bonus round or something? It's none of your business." Alan turned to walk away from his older brother.

Scott grabbed his arm. "It is my business, I was really worried about you! Now who did you accompany?"

"A woman, happy now?" Alan yanked his arm out of his elder brother's grasp.

"A woman?"

"Yes a woman," once again Alan turned away, then he turned back again. "And if you say _anything_ along the lines of "Tin-Tin won't be happy," I'll knock you into the next week! I'm not in the mood for jokes Scott!"

For a moment Scott stood there, stunned, then he leant forward and grabbed Alan's arm again. No one spoke to Scott Tracy like that. No one. "Don't you _ever_ speak like that again, or I'll knock _you_ into the next century! What the hell is wrong with you? Who was the woman you took to the hospital? Why did you take her there?"

"Alright I'll tell you, then will you get off my back? The woman's name was Cassie Morgan. I went with her to the hospital because she didn't want to be alone while she waited to see her son, lying dead in a morgue! Her son that, may I had, I watched die today! I watched while he was knocked down and killed in a hit-and-run!" Tears of anger and frustration began to spill down Alan's cheeks.

Scott let go of Alan's arm and stared at him in utter amazement. Then he wrapped his arms around his little brother and pulled him close. "Oh Alan, why didn't you tell me?"

"What difference would it have made?" Alan responded, sobbing against Scott's chest. "I was this close to saving him, Scott. _This_ close_." _He made an 'o' shape with his thumb and index finger, leaving a tiny gap between the tips to indicate how close he had been. "But I still couldn't save him! In fact, I'll show you just how close I was to him." Alan pulled away from Scott's embrace and unbuttoned his dark jacket, revealing his white shirt still streaked with Sammy Morgan's blood. "See? I was close enough to him that I got his blood on me, but I wasn't close enough to save him. Funny that, isn't it?"

Scott shook his head, "No I don't think it's funny. Why didn't you tell me? I could have helped you."

"Can you bring the dead back to life, Scott?"

"No, but…"

"Then you can't help me."

Scott was about to say something, when the eyes of Virgil's portrait began to flash. "Thunderbird two calling base."

"I'm going to get changed," Alan said miserably. "Call me if you need any help."

Scott watched his little brother leave the room. He intended going after him, but right now he had a job to do.

Sitting behind his father's desk, Scott responded to his brother's call. "Base here, go ahead Virgil."

"The rescue was a success Scott. We got the mountaineers off before the avalanche occurred."

"Well done, Virgil. All craft return to base."

"FAB. Are you ok, Scott?"

"Yeah I'm ok," Scott decided not to tell Virg about Alan. His brother wouldn't appreciate it, he was stubborn that way.

"Ok Scott," Virgil decided not to press the matter. "Estimated time of arrival: Three point five hours."

"FAB," Scott disconnected the call and went to his youngest brother's room and knocked on the door. "Alan let me in, please. Talk to me, it might help."

"No it won't Scott", Alan responded from the other side of the door.

Taking a deep breath, Scott keyed in the access code to his brother's room.

Alan was sitting on his bed, having changed his clothes. He was clutching the bloody shirt in his hands. Tears were running down his cheeks, dropping onto the quilt cover.

Scott sat beside Alan, wrapping his arms around him. Alan in turn, buried his head in Scott's shoulder.

"Why do I feel so guilty, Scott? I know that it wasn't really my fault, but I was so close to saving him! And that driver, that driver just ran away!"

"Why don't you tell me what happened?" Scott told Alan, gently running his hand through his little brother's hair.

Alan sniffed and nodded. "I was walking down Main street, still smarting at you guys for making me come. I was going past Main street park, when suddenly this kid runs out in front of me, chasing a soccer ball." He closed his eyes, picturing the scene "Suddenly this silver car comes speeding round the corner. The drivers on his cell phone, he's not looking at the road. I could see what was going to happen, but for some reason I couldn't move. It was like I was frozen on the spot"

Scott listened intently as Alan told his story. He was starting to feel guilty himself. Maybe if they hadn't made Alan go to the mainland, he wouldn't have witnessed the accident.

"I ran into the road," Alan continued his story. "But I was too late, and I couldn't do anything. I watched as the car hit him, I heard him scream, I heard the car skidding and it's horn sounding, then I felt the blood on my face."

"There's no blood on you're face now."

"I wiped it off at the hospital. I ran to the boy and felt his pulse, then the driver appeared behind me. He asked if the kid was alright, and I thought about yelling to him: "What sort of question is that! Does he look alright to you!"

Scott nodded, "Go on kid."

"When I told him the kid was dead," Alan continued, "he started backing away, shaking his head, as if in denial. Before I could stop him he ran back to his car and drove off, without even looking back," he shook his head angrily. "The guy was a coward! I'm telling you Scott, if I _ever _see him again he's gonna pay!"

"Take it easy kid, the police will catch him."

Little by little, Alan told Scott what happened. From Cassie Morgan appearing on the scene crying , to waiting at the hospital, the call he sent Scott, and finally arriving back on Tracy island.

Scott listened as Alan finished his story. He too was beginning to see why Alan felt so angry, he was feeling angry too. He may not have witnessed the accident himself, but from what Alan had told him, it definitely wasn't something _anyone _should have to witness.

He continued stroking Alan's hair. "Don't worry kid, he won't get away, the police are sure to catch him."

"I hope so," Alan sniffed. "For Cassie's sake."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter four

It had been two days since Alan had witnessed Sammy Morgan's tragic accident. He had yet to tell his father and other brothers about what had happened and he had made Scott promise not to tell them either, he would do it himself.

Loading up his computer, Alan began reading the online reports of the accident. It was easier to read the news online, that way he didn't have his brothers constantly asking him why he was reading that 'rubbish'; though the death of a child couldn't really be called 'rubbish,' could it? But his brothers knew that Alan was never interested in the news, unless of course, it ended in International Rescue having to be called out to help with some disaster or other.

A pop up appeared on the screen: YOU HAVE MAIL.

Alan clicked on it, idly wondering who could have mailed him. Only his brothers and father, plus a couple of his old college buddies had his E-mail.

It was from Cassie, an instant message. Alan suddenly remembered that he had given Cassie his address just before he left the hospital.

The message read: _Hi Alan, sorry if this is a bad time, but I need to ask you something._

Alan read the message, then typed:_ No, of course it's not a bad time. What did you want to ask me? _Then he clicked send, and waited.

A couple of minutes later, Cassie's reply came through: _It's Sammy's funeral tomorrow, I was wondering if you wanted to come? I could do with the company._

_I'll have to sort it with my boss first, _Alan wrote, suddenly remembering that he was due to swap space duty with John tomorrow, _but yeah I'll come. How are you coping?_

_As well as I can be, I never knew it would be this hard though, I think about him all the time._

_Why don't you tell me about it?_

_Ok, I'll try. Every time I go into his room I feel as if he's still there….and I can smell his scent too….. I still wash his quilt cover, though I know he will never use it again…I still pack his lunch for school as well, then I remember and I have to throw it away, like the driver threw my son's life away. Oh Alan, I never knew that losing someone so close to you could hurt this much. I wish with all my heart that I could just forget-not Sammy, I'll never forget him. I just wish that I could forget the cruel way he was taken. Do you know what it's like to lose someone close to you?_

_Yeah I do sort of, though she was taken just after I was born so I never knew her. I had my brothers to tell me about her though._

_Who was she? If you don't mind me asking._

_No I don't mind. She was my mom, her name was Lucille. But like I said, I never knew her, so I guess what you're going through is worse, in a sense. Though as I got older and my brothers told me more about her, I began to realise what I was missing. _

_How many brothers do you have?_

_Four. I'm the youngest as you've probably guessed. That's why I think what you're going through is worse, you have no one close to you that you can talk to. I had Scott, Virgil and John. My other brother, Gordon, I couldn't really talk to though. He was in the same boat as me-he hardly knew her because he was only a year old when she died. _

_I'm really sorry about your mom, Alan, truly I am. Have you ever seen what she looks like?_

_I've seen a couple of photos, but if I want to remember what she looked like I just look at Virgil because he's the spitting image of her. If I want to remember the earliest details of her that my brothers can remember, I go to Scott, because he's the oldest. Then, if I want to remember the quieter-more secret-things about her, I go to John because they were very close, and shared lots of things with each other. If my brothers don't want to talk about her for some reason, I go to Gordon. He can't remember much about her, but what he can really helps, such as the way she use to sing him to sleep at night._

_You and your brothers sound very close. I wish I had people like that to talk to_

_You can always talk to me. You know that, don't you?_

_Yeah. Thankyou, Alan._

_How are you coping with the publicity?_

_Not bad. Most of the journalists are very sympathetic, but others seem a bit more accusing, they think I should have watched him more, and maybe I should have._

_You can't blame yourself for what happened. _Alan felt like a hypocrite typing that, especially since he still blamed himself for the accident and not being able to save Sammy. _That driver should never have been going that fast._

_I wish they would catch that guy. I know it sounds stupid, but, I keep getting this superstitious feeling that Sammy won't be able to rest until I find who did this to him. The police don't even have a name, despite the statement you gave. It's like he's vanished of the face of the earth_

" Well if he has'" Alan thought wryly, "I'll just contact John and ask him to keep a look out. Hopefully though, the guy will fall into a black hole." _He's running away. Why does that not surprise me? No, I don't think you're feeling is stupid, you and Sammy both deserve justice. Listen, I'll go and talk to my boss about coming to Sammy's funeral, ok? Then I'll mail you back later, about ten-o-cock._

_Yeah ok, I'll look forward to seeing you. Thanks for everything you did that day, I really appreciated it._

_Don't mention it, I'll see you tomorrow. Take care of yourself._

_Bye._

Alan deactivated the link, and sat back in his chair. Cassie was trying her best to be brave, but Alan knew that it would take a long time for her to get over Sammy's death. A very long time.

Switching off his computer, he went to talk to his father in the lounge.

Jeff Tracy was sitting behind his desk, filling out some forms. He was also talking to John via the monitor on Thunderbird five, Scott was on the sofa, lazily working on a crossword, Gordon sat in his swimming gear and Virgil was at the piano, though he wasn't playing it.

Alan considered waiting until his father was alone before asking him about the funeral, but then he decided to use this opportunity to tell the others what had happened. Alan knew in his heart that Virgil, John and Gordon knew something was wrong with him. After all, it wasn't often that the youngest Tracy was so quiet and withdrawn. The only person Alan confided in was Scott, but he knew he couldn't keep doing that.

Walking into the lounge, Alan gave Scott a look that his eldest brother interpreted as: 'I've decided to tell him and get it over with.'

"Dad, can I ask you something?" Alan said.

Jeff Tracy looked up at his youngest son, then addressed the monitor again. "I'll talk to you later, John."

"FAB, Father." John prepared to deactivate the link.

"Wait!" Alan cried, "this concerns you as well, John."

John raised an eyebrow at his youngest brother. "How long?"

"What?"

Come on Alan. It's obvious that you want me to stay up here for a while longer, so how long do you want?

Alan had never realised just how 'obvious' he was. "One day John, that's all. Please it's important."

Jeff looked squarely at his youngest son. "And just what is so 'important' that you can't swap with John tomorrow.?"

Alan looked at the floor, willing the tears of anger and frustration not to come, then he looked back at his father. "I have to go to a funeral."

Now everyone was listening. Alan glanced over and noticed Scott give him a slight nod of his head. Gordon was leaning forward the way he always did when there was something worth listening to, Virgil had swapped the piano stool for the arm of the couch, and John was staring out at him intently from the monitor.

"Whose funeral, son?"

Alan sighed and then told his father and brothers-except Scott-about what had happened on the mainland. He explained about the accident, the blood, waiting at the hospital, the call to Scott, giving Cassie Morgan his E-mail, the argument with Scott back home and finally the message he had just received.

When he had finished he watched for his brothers reactions. Gordon's jaw had dropped, he was rendered speechless-a surprising thing for the usually chatty Tracy. John had a far away look in his eyes, and Alan was pretty sure that he was thinking about their mom. Virgil looked at Scott, "You knew?" He asked, "why didn't you tell us?"

Scott sighed and eventually nodded. "Yeah I knew, but I promised I wouldn't say anything. Alan wanted to tell you himself."

Before Virgil could interrupt with his 'you could have told me' speech, Alan spoke up. "If you knew about this Virgil, what would you have said?"

"I would have tried to help you," Virgil answered.

"Me too," Gordon added.

Alan looked up at John who nodded, indicating that he would have said the same thing. The middle Tracy seemed incapable of speech though, thoughts of his mother still floating around in his head.

"Ok guys," Alan continued. "I'm going to ask you the same thing I asked Scott. Can you raise the dead."

The brothers in question, shook their heads.

"Then you can't help me," Alan turned back to his father. "You see sir, I _have_ to go. Cassie has no relatives to talk to and I promised I'd be there."

Jeff stared at Alan. Never before had his youngest son been so……adamant, about something. "Ok, son, you can go. But remember it's not just up to me, after all, I'm not the one you're meant to be swapping duty with tomorrow."

Alan looked up at John, and smiled when his brother nodded. "You go kiddo, tell Cassie the Tracys send their deepest sympathies."

His brothers and father nodded.

"Thanks John," Alan was glad he had such as an understanding brother, "I will do."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

_(This Chapter is Sammy's funeral)_

Despite being over 160 years old, Grace church in New York stilled retained it's elegant and architectural charm. A long marble aisle led up to the alter where four-year-old Sammy Morgan's casket rested.

Despite being packed with people the church was eerily silent; as if the congregation were too afraid to talk in case they said something wrong that would upset others, especially Cassie.

Cassie herself was sitting right at the front. She seemed to be in a trance, her eyes never looked anywhere but at her son's casket. It was as if she willing her son to come back to her; for the casket to open up and Sammy to rise again, much like Lazarus had risen in the bible story.

But deep down Cassie knew that such her thing wasn't possible, and the thought of never seeing her son again was too much to bare. She put her face in her hands and began to cry, rocking back and forth.

Beside her, Alan put a friendly arm around Cassie's shoulder. "Shh, it's ok Cassie, don't cry, it'll get better in time I promise." Alan wasn't sure how to go about this; he had never comforted a mourning person before. "You have to….you have to think about it like this Cassie: Sammy's going on to a better place, and he wouldn't want you to be upset."

"I know he wouldn't," Cassie agreed, "but I can't stop thinking about him. I'll never see him again."

"Then that's all the more reason to make this moment special," Alan pointed out. He looked up to see the reverend waiting to start and nodded at him.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Reverend Jamison began. "We are gathered here to say farewell to Sammy Morgan and to commit him into the hands of God."

"Let us begin with our first hymn: We'll never say goodbye,"

The congregation rose, and soon the church echoed with singing voices.

"With friends on earth we meet in gladness,  
While swift the moments fly,  
Yet ever comes the tho't of sadness,  
That we must say, "Goodbye."

We'll never say goodbye in Heav'n,  
We'll never say goodbye,  
For in that land of joy and song,  
We'll never say goodbye.

How joyful is the hope that lingers,  
When loved ones cross death's sea,  
That we, when all earth's toils are ended,  
With Thee shall ever be.

No parting words shall e'er be spoken,  
in yonder home so fair,   
but songs of joy, and peace, and gladness,  
we'll sing forever there."

After the hymn had ended, the Reverend continued his sermon. "Let us pray. Take care of us, Lord, as we stand here close to despair with our grief and our questions. Be with to us as we mourn, that we be not tempted to abandon you. Let your eternal light shine upon Sammy Morgan. Give us the power to continue with our life trusting in your help In the name of Jesus."

There followed a reply of "Amen" from the congregation.

The reverend motioned to Cassie. "I believe that Miss Morgan has written her own homily for us."

With tears shining in her eyes, Cassie got up and approached the alter. Taking a quick glance at Alan she smiled when he mouthed "you can do it." Removing a folded piece of paper from her pocket, she began to slowly read the words she had written.

"I would like to thank you all for coming here today, and I know Sammy would be thankful too. I like to think that Sammy is up there now with his grandparents and getting to know them. I picture him sitting on his grandpa's lap listening to tales of the 'old country' while his grandma looks warmly on. I remember when I first took Sammy to a cemetery at approximately three and a half years old. He ran around all the gravestones and then asked me what they were. I explained to him that this was where people who had died were buried."

Cassie smiled faintly to herself as she remembered that day last year.

"Of course he didn't understand what death was so I explained to him that it was when people went into a 'forever sleep', and that one day it would happen to us. Sammy looked up at me defiantly and said "it's not going to happen to me; I'm going to set my alarm so I _have_ to wake up."

There was a ripple of laughter from the congregation.

"Each time I think about that day I can't help but smile, though I know that no alarm – matter how loud it is – will ever be able to wake him. However I also believe that Sammy is in heaven waiting for that alarm still and that gives me peace."

There were a few minutes of silence as Cassie went back to her seat. "Was that ok?" She asked Alan when she sat down.

"That was beautiful, Cassie," Alan answered honestly.

Reverend Jamison instructed the pallbearers (Alan was one of them) to take Sammy's casket outside to its final resting place.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Outside the sun was shining as the people gathered under an old oak tree where Sammy would be laid to rest. Reverend Jamison made the sign of the cross on Sammy's coffin as he said: "Our Father in heaven, we commit this child to you. Take it into your arms bear it on your heart. Through Jesus Christ. Amen."

"Amen."

Reverend Jamison threw three handfuls of dirt onto the coffin as he announced: "From dust you came, to dust you shall return. Jesus Christ, our Saviour, shall raise you up on the last day."

As he listened to the Reverend, Alan found himself wondering what his mother's burial had been like. What hymns did they sing? Did his dad make a speech or anything? He resolved himself to asking when he got back to the island.

"Miss Morgan has chosen the following passage from the bible," Reverend Jamison continued, snapping Alan out of his thoughts. "People were bringing little children to Jesus to have him touch them, but the disciples rebuked them for it. When Jesus saw this, he was indignant. He said to them: "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth; anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a child will never enter it." And he took the children into his arms and blessed them."

"What made you choose this passage?" Alan whispered to Cassie when the reverend had finished reading.

"I don't really know" Cassie replied quietly. "I think it helps me believe that there is life after death, you know what I mean?"

Alan nodded; he knew what Cassie meant. He often wondered that himself when he came across a body at a rescue sight. Was the person in a better place now? Did he suffer? It was questions that couldn't really be answered until it happened to you.

"This day we commit his body to the ground, looking for the blessed hope and glorious appearing of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body that it may be conformed to His glorious body." There was silence as Reverend Jamison read from the black bible he was carrying. "Now let us say the Lord's prayer together:"

As one the congregation – though there were now considerably less than there were in the church – began to recite.

"Our Father, who art in heaven. Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us today our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen."

Reverend Jamison opened his eyes and lifted his head. He motioned to the heavens. "May the Lord bless you and watch over you. The Lord make his face shine upon you, and be gracious to you. The Lord look kindly on you and give you peace; In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit."

"Amen"

"We will now sing our final hymn: Thine is the glory"

For the last time during the funeral the sound of singing voices echoed across the church yard.

"Thine be the glory, risen, conq'ring Son;  
Endless is the vict'ry, Thou o'er death hast won;  
Angels in bright raiment rolled the stone away,  
Kept the folded grave clothes where Thy body lay.  
Thine be the glory, risen conq'ring Son,  
Endless is the vict'ry, Thou o'er death hast won.

Lo! Jesus meets us, risen from the tomb;  
Lovingly He greets us, scatters fear and gloom;  
Let the church with gladness, hymns of triumph sing;  
For her Lord now liveth, death hath lost its sting.  
Thine be the glory, risen conq'ring Son,  
Endless is the vict'ry, Thou o'er death hast won.

No more we doubt Thee, glorious Prince of life;  
Life is naught without Thee; aid us in our strife;  
Make us more than conq'rors, through Thy deathless love:  
Bring us safe through Jordan to Thy home above.  
Thine be the glory, risen conq'ring Son,  
Endless is the vict'ry, Thou o'er death hast won."

The end of the hymn marked the end of the funeral, and Alan accompanied Cassie out of the church yard.

"Do you think Sammy would have liked his funeral?" Cassie asked as they walked down the street.

"I'm sure Sammy would have loved it no matter how you said goodbye to him," Alan replied honestly, taking her hand.

"Thanks Alan, that means a lot. Are you able to come back to my house for something to eat?"

Alan shook his head sadly, "I'm afraid I can't. I have to go back to work; my boss only let me have one day off."

"Wow," Cassie smiled, "you're boss must be a real grouch."

Alan couldn't help but laugh at that statement. "Yeah he can be a bit of a grouch, but he's still my father."

Cassie's eyes opened in shock. "Oh I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have…"

"It's ok," Alan reassured her. "I'm just glad that you still have the courage to smile after what you've been through."

"I'll be smiling even more when they catch Sammy's killer."

"They'll catch him, Cassie, don't worry."

As he said this Alan began to form a plan in his mind. He would ask some of the IR agents – including Lady Penelope – to help to look for the driver.

After all, he had to be somewhere.

Didn't he?


End file.
